


True Blue: The Persistence of Colour

by tess1978



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Age Difference, Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor (Background), Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Loneliness, Multi, Paladin Danse & Scribe Haylen - Freeform, Past Relationships, Pining, Redemption, Rejection and Loss, Scribe Haylen/Knight Rhys (Background), Second Chances, Synth Headcanons, Unrequited Love, mutual comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 03:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess1978/pseuds/tess1978
Summary: Decades after being banished from the Brotherhood of Steel, Danse discovers an injured Brotherhood Knight in a crashed vertibird.  Her presence in his life bring back painful memories of the past. But she also brings hope for the future.





	True Blue: The Persistence of Colour

**Author's Note:**

> My submission of Reverse Fallout Big Bang 2017. 
> 
> I was so lucky to work with my good friend Avaleah on this project. In addition to the artwork, she also made me a beautiful cover to go with this work. [Please visit her on tumblr!](http://avaleahworks.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  

Danse knows, somehow he _knows,_ in this moment, that he is fated to die here. 

That fate was thwarted the last time by a shape in blue that swept in without warning and saved him in this very spot, from this very location, a quarter century ago. 

But this time, there will be no rescue. No miracle. 

As the ferals swarm, more than even he, stronger than most humans and clad in power armour, could even hope to fight off, his only regret is that he will never look into those beautiful blue eyes again. 

***

_He had thought he would never look into these blue eyes again, but as he stood in front of Elder Maxson and explained how Nora, a pre-war Vault dweller, had swept in and saved Recon Squad Gladius from the ferals that threatened to overwhelm the remaining team members, his heart almost burst from his chest. He drank in the sight of Arthur Maxson like a desert after a drought, his soft dark hair, strong, straight nose, and the scar gouged into his face._

_But the blue eyes didn’t meet his. They were fixed on the newcomer with a look Danse had never seen before in all the years he had known Maxson. And looking at her, the way her eyes fixed on Arthur’s, Danse realized that any faint hope he had of something more for himself was dead and buried._

_His emotions went from a soaring high to a crushing low in an instant. But no sign of it showed on his face. His hands remained relaxed at his side. Only the slight stiffening in his back betrayed the heartbreak within._

_As he laid in his bunk later that night, he finally acknowledged to himself that he would never have had a chance with Maxson. They were friends, he liked to think, but only of a superficial variety. More than anything, Arthur Maxson was his superior, the leader of the Brotherhood, Elder, and the last of a distinguished line going back to the formation of the order._

_Danse was an ex-wastelander, a nobody, and although he had worked his way up to Paladin, losing mentors and lovers along the way, he would never be in Maxson’s league._

_He rolled over on his side, clenching his eyes shut. This didn’t really change anything for him. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Cutler. His need to put the Brotherhood before his relationship soon wore thin with the few women and men he had dated._

_But the truth was, he was lonely. He didn’t have anyone to spend his life with. He had friends, of a sort. He had grown close with Scribe Haylen over the course of their assignment to Recon Squad Gladius, but there was still that veneer of professionalism over their relationship._

_That and his feelings for Maxson._

_He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. It was shaping up to be another sleepless night, despite his comfortable bunk and bone-deep exhaustion. He reached for the half-empty bottle of whiskey on his desk and pulled out the cork with a sigh._

***

Danse shoots awake as a loud crash shakes the roof over him and the bed beneath him. Alert in an instant, he grabs his rifle, and in a series of moves that are alarmingly quick for a man of his size, darts outside and to the roof of his shelter, making his way across a platform up the rickety-looking steps along the side of the neighboring building to the roof, where he uses the scope of his rifle to identify the source of the explosion.

The entire way up, he is thinking of the supermutants that have recently inhabited a nearby high-rise, and how the time has probably come to clear them out. He expects to see a burning car or something to that effect, but instead he sees something he hasn’t seen in over two decades.

It’s a vertibird, crashed and on its side, smoke pouring out. He looks to the high rise and sees the culprit, a single mutant armed with a missile launcher. 

Without thought, he raises his rifle and ends the mutant with one shot to the head. 

An hour later he exits the maze of his home and makes his way carefully towards the vertibird. He had seen no movement near the vertibird after the crash, but he was hopeful that he could find something useful anyway. Maybe fusion cores. Fusion cores would make his day.

He tries to ignore the niggling thought of the Brotherhood soldiers inside and their mission. He grits his teeth. Those days are done now. He’s been out longer than he was in, his time as a Brother long past.

The pilot is dead, impaled on the control stick. There’s a scribe as well, and Danse can’t tell if she was a victim of the crash or the rocket itself. 

Two armoured knights, one of whom has a rotor through his armour in a way that could not be survived. He rolls him over and removes the fusion core, dispassionately assessing the salvageability of the remaining parts of the armour. He decides he will have to come back later. He won’t be able to carry it all right now.

The second knight’s armour is in much better shape. The leg is caught under part of the craft, clearly crushed, but the remainder seems relatively undamaged. He heads in that direction to assess the damage. To his surprise, there’s a breathing sound coming from the helmet’s speaker. He reaches behind and pops the helmet release.

When he removes it, the knight’s eyes flutter briefly against the light, but don’t open. Her breathing is shallow and raspy, but she’s clearly alive. 

Danse is torn. He is sure she would not hesitate to shoot him on sight. But he can’t bring himself to leave her there to die. He’s never been that cruel. He toys with the idea of shooting her, ending her suffering and ensuring his own safety at the same time, but brushes that idea away almost as fast as it comes.

There’s nothing to be done about it. With a sigh, he opens her armour, pocketing the precious fusion core and the small packet of personal effects from the storage compartment on her armour before pulling her out, lifting her over his shoulder and carrying her back to his home.

She is tall and sturdy, and he’s a bit out of breath by the time he gets her to his shelter. He lays her on his bed and assesses the damage. Her thick, dark brown hair is damp with blood, but the lump is small and probably not severe. He expects she will wake up soon. 

Her leg is the real problem, broken just above the ankle, her bone protruding through the skin. Luckily, stimpaks are much more common than fusion cores, and he has several on hand. After a dose of med-x to keep her asleep and out of pain, he sets her leg and applies a stimpak, watching as the skin heals.

Although the bone should be knitted within half an hour, she should ideally keep off it for a day or two to prevent it from reinjuring. He wraps it tightly before covering her in a blanket and turning to her pack. 

He toys with the fastenings for a moment, considers opening it, but ultimately he is too uncomfortable with the invasion of privacy, so he leaves it be. 

Deciding to keep watch until she awakes, he retrieves his sniper rifle and 10mm pistol, and sitting near the bed, strips and cleans both weapons.

He is just about finished putting the pistol back together when she moans and shifts. He goes over to check her, but she’s not quite awake. The sun is setting and the light is growing dim, so he lights a lamp and steps over to the bed again, pressing a hand to her forehead. She’s not fevered, to his relief. 

She moans once more at the touch of his cool hand, and her eyes flutter open, fixing on him.

It’s like a punch to the gut.

Her eyes are so blue, like hubflowers, darker at the centre and light towards the edges. His breath escapes him as she looks at him, and a long moment passes before her eyelids droop again and the world comes rushing back. 

He shakes his head and looks away for a moment, and when she speaks, he’s more prepared.

“What happened?” she says. 

“Your bird crashed. You’re the only survivor. I brought you home to heal. Your ankle was broken, but I had stimpaks. You need a day or two. You may have a concussion. It’s safe here.”

She tries to sit up but he stops her. 

“You won’t be able to find your way out without my help. I’ll let you leave when you’re healed. Are you hungry?”

She looks at him for a moment, and Danse grits his teeth to keep from losing himself in her eyes again.

She falls back down onto the pillow, and closes her eyes. “Yeah, I better eat.”

He nods, then steps into his pantry, returning a moment later with purified water and some bread. “This will have to do for now, but it’s getting late and I can cook soup.”

She takes the food, thanking him. He steps outside to turn on the generator, wincing at the loud noise. Back inside, he turns on the electric stove and sets to cooking.

As he slices meat and vegetables, he can feel her eyes on him, but he ignores it. She’ll be gone soon enough. A few days and he can send her on her way. And then he can be rid of the uneasy feeling she brings. He’s not sure if it’s because she’s a Brotherhood knight or if it’s something about her, but he can feel her presence in his home like a physical force, a tingling in his stomach and spine.

They don’t talk much over dinner. She tells him her name is Ingrid. She doesn’t offer a last name, and he doesn’t ask. The only name he has is Danse; it’s common for people to only have or know one name, and it can sometimes be a sensitive subject, so he doesn’t press. She doesn’t flinch or react to his name, so he relaxes.

After they eat, she asks for her bag, and his eyebrows shoot up when she removes an item that appears to be the circuitry, screen, and controls for a Pipboy, but in a specially constructed housing that made it a handheld rather than wearable device.

She pokes at it for a few minutes, then sets it aside with a sigh. 

“We brought a booster. It’s probably in the vertibird still. I will need that to get a signal out.”

Danse looks at the Pipboy in alarm. “A signal?”

“Yes. I am to transmit text reports to my superiors. But this doesn’t have the range I need, so we brought a booster. I can also use it as a distress beacon.”

“I would prefer the Brotherhood don’t come to my home, if you don’t mind. But we can go look for the booster when you’re feeling better, and find a place further away to call them.”

Her eyes narrow at him but she must have realized that this was non-negotiable, so after a moment she nods in assent, setting aside the Pipboy and relaxing back against the pillow. 

Danse removes the dishes and sets to cleaning up after supper. When he looks again, she has fallen asleep, so he turns off the lights and leaves her alone.

He tries to make breakfast quietly the next morning, but she wakes anyway, checking the time on her Pipboy and groaning. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, handing her hot tea.

She nods as she blows on it and takes a sip. 

“I need to go back to the vertibird today. I’ll look for your booster, but like I said, I don’t want you to use it here. Would you like me to get anything else?”

“Can you get the holotags please?” She holds up her own briefly before tucking it back inside her clothing. “They wear them-”

“I know.” He is more sharp than he intends when he cuts her off. He takes a deep breath and tries again, more gently. “The outhouse is just outside and to the left, but try to stay off that foot. I should be back in a few hours.”

He sets the food on the crate next to the bed, then without another word, steps out of his shelter and towards the exit of his home.

When he returns later, he finds Ingrid in clean fatigues and a t-shirt, and the breakfast dishes are clean and put away. 

“I told you to stay off that foot, Sister,” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, and he belatedly realizes his mistake.

“Sister?”

“I… I’m somewhat familiar with the Brotherhood.”

“Are you a deserter? Is that why you don’t want them here?”

“No. I am not a deserter. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He avoids her eyes, digging through his pack.

“I found your booster, but it didn’t survive the crash.” He holds it up. Dismay crosses her face, and it bothers him, so he rushes to reassure her.

“If you don’t mind waiting until you’re fully healed, I can escort you to the Cambridge Police station. It was a Brotherhood outpost a long time ago, and there’s a Deep Range Transmitter still there. You should be able to use that to get the signal out. It’s been re-infested by ghouls, though, since the Brotherhood left, so it’s best not to go alone.”

“That sounds good,” she says.

“Can I ask what your mission is here?”

“Recon. The Brotherhood has been focused on improving the Capital Wasteland since they destroyed the Institute here twenty-five years ago. There was trade between the two regions at first, but it’s tapered off over the last decade or so, and I’m here to find out why. I’m to check on the status of the region and hopefully re-establish contact with the Minutemen.”

“The Minutemen are gone,” Danse tells her bluntly. 

“Gone? But the Brotherhood left them in good shape, well armed, with several artillery installations in place. With the Institute gone and trade networks in place, it should be thriving.”

Danse runs his hands through his hair. “The Minutemen relied on more than strength and arms for their survival. They needed a leader, a figurehead to give the settlements a sense of unity. At first, they had that figurehead. General Garvey was a great man, a close friend of mine, and a good leader. But about fifteen years ago he became ill. Once he was gone, there was nobody able to take his place. Gradually, Gunners and raiders took over, extorting the settlements for protection. There is too little left to trade with more distant places. The settlements now are just barely able to survive.”

“I’m sorry,” Ingrid says. “You must have just been a kid. It’s hard to lose someone you’re close with.”

Danse looks at her, confused. He hadn’t been a kid when Preston died. He was… ah, shit.

“Look, I’m going to go put this stuff away, I’ll be back in a bit.” He rushes out, his heart pounding.

He goes into the outhouse, rubbing at his face. He should just tell her. What’s she going to do, anyway? It’s not like she can do anything about it, incapacitated as she is. 

But he likes her. He likes her a lot. She’s tough, competent, smart. Even in the short time he’s known her, he can see that about her. She likes him too, trusts him, and he doesn’t want to replace the trust in her eyes with fear and disgust.

He steps outside to the watershed, looking at himself in the dingy mirror he uses to shave. His face looks back at him, the same as always, and he stares at himself critically. His skin is smooth, barely lined, and unmarred. He looks at the spot over his eyebrow where there used to be a scar, but it disappeared long ago. All his scars seem to fade over time, disappearing from his body before the memories they evoke can disappear from his mind. 

His hair is thick and black, tied up in a knot on his head. He could probably use a haircut. And a shave. He’s gone past scruff and into full beard again.

He didn’t shave as often as he used to. Riley had liked his face smooth, but as his began to line and his hair began to grey, while Danse remained youthful, they had grown apart. When the other settlers in their community had grown suspicious of Danse and turned on him, Riley had turned away as well, and Danse had fled to the alley where he now lived. 

Danse turns away from his face in the mirror, angry. Driven out of his home twice in his life for being what he was, he is determined to keep from hurting like that again. A third time would kill him. He’d come to this alley and worked for the past five years to create a home that is secure from outside threats. Only accessible through a maze-like series of tunnels through the nearby buildings, he was safe within.

He traded for what he needed, leaving regularly on scavenging trips to the Glowing Sea and the Institute ruins, places other scavengers couldn’t go, and bartering with the citizens of the local settlements. He had managed to avoid interaction with the scum who ran the region, avoiding paying tribute to them. He supposed it was only a matter of time, but for now, he remained undetected. 

He rinses his face, then returns to Ingrid. He will get her back on her feet and accompany her to Cambridge, and then she will be gone from his life. Her blue eyes will be just a memory, one among hundreds.

***

The best laid plans, or so the saying goes, and Danse does not account for Ingrid herself. Smart, funny, and unaccustomed to being idle, she spends her convalescence improving his weapons, assessing his defenses, and suggesting improvements. She tells him stories of growing up in the Brotherhood, her early scouting missions, and pranks pulled on the scribes who tutored her in the Citadel where she was raised. 

He finds himself laughing despite himself, a rusty sound he hasn’t heard in years, and his eyes never leave her as she walks around his space like she belongs there, talking enough for both of them and winking when she catches his eye. 

At twenty-three, this is her first big mission, and she tells him that if it goes well, she expects to be promoted to Paladin on her return. He tells her she’s exceptional, and she brushes it off. “I come from exceptional people,” she says with a grin.

A week passes, then two, and Danse is reluctant to mention the expedition to Cambridge. The longer she stays, the less he wants her to go. He decides to wait until she says something. Let her decide if she’s well enough. 

He retrieves her armour from the crash and repairs it, lovingly restoring it to prime condition.

Meanwhile, the noise from the nearby highrise has been increasing. Danse mentions it’s infested with supermutants, and that he should soon think about clearing them out. Ingrid nods, and suggests they go together. “If that goes well, then we can see if I’m well enough for the trip to Cambridge.”

Danse watches her as she packs supplies. The highrise is only a short distance away, so her pack is filled with ammunition and mines. The plan is to plant mines throughout the four story building, as stealthily as possible, before luring the beasts into a frenzy and eliminating the survivors. It was a technique that he’d used before, one suited to a situation where he was outnumbered and unarmoured. He thinks about his power armour briefly, with longing, but fusion cores are too rare for a mission like this. He needs to conserve them for his trips to the glowing sea.

Danse leads Ingrid through the maze-like exit, and they emerge over two blocks away in a street littered with rubble. He indicates the direction they need to travel, and she turns that way, with Danse following. 

He watches her as he walks. She is tall, nearly six feet, but slim. He forces his eyes away from the gentle curve of her backside as she walks, up to her shining dark brown hair. It’s cut short underneath, but long enough to tie back on top, and she has it braided right now. 

She pauses as they pass the downed vertibird. Danse had returned several times, retrieving what he could of her power armour and burying the dead. He steps up beside her and puts his hand on her back, and says the Brotherhood words for the fallen. She looks up at him in silent thanks, and they carry on.

Too often, soldiers rely too heavily on power armour. Danse had been that way himself, before he was forced to learn other ways of dealing with things. He was nimble and silent, habits he had developed over the years. He was concerned about Ingrid, a Brotherhood knight, but it seemed she was well versed in stealth as well, and they worked well together to accomplish their mission.

The mines go off according to plan, and Ingrid and Danse wait in a nearby building, shooting any they see, until the highrise is quiet. They wait almost an hour after the last explosion. Danse listens to her quiet breathing beside him, her body touching his, and he fights the urge to move closer.

She turns to him, her blue eyes fixed to his. The moment seems to hang forever, but it’s probably only a few seconds until she suggests they go sweep the building for survivors before heading home.

They find a few injured mutants. Danse finishes them off with a knife, and Ingrid heads to the top floor. Danse wipes his knife but looks up in alarm when a shriek rings through the building.

Taking the steps two at a time, he dashes up the stairs, following the sounds of a struggle, until he finds Ingrid trapped in the meaty green hands of a supermutant.

Its back is to the door, partially blocking her body from his view, but he doesn’t hesitate. With one fluid movement, he pulls his 10mm from his hip holster and a second later the beast is on the floor, three holes in its ugly head.

Ingrid pulls herself from under the beast and before Danse can move or think she flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He embraces her back, without thinking, and buries his nose in her hair, smelling his own soap and her warm sweet smell. She turns her face to his and he doesn’t even think, he just takes her lips with his.

Her arms are around his neck now, and she opens her mouth, letting him taste her, and she’s so sweet. His stomach tightens, his heart races, and he knows in this moment that one taste will never be enough. 

She leans back and looks at him, her beautiful hubflower eyes sparkling. “Ready to go home?”

He nods, mutely.

She grins, taking his hand, and they race back to his alley.

Danse leads her through the booby-trapped maze, and once inside, they head to his shelter. Ingrid drops her pack on the floor and turns to him, and he drops his as well and his mouth is on hers once again, his hand sliding under her shirt, dragging along her soft skin and up her back. 

She tugs at his shirt, and when he pulls it off over his head she moves to his pants, unbuttoning them and slipping her hand inside. Danse walks her backwards to his bed and they fall down together. 

It’s all hands and skin, her fingers find the thong holding back his hair and it comes loose, falling in his eyes as he looks down at her. Her blue eyes look up at him, shining and beautiful, and his heart clenches as he sinks home. 

He’s been in love before. He’s had it all, unrequited love, the heartbreak of rejection, and the agony of separation by death. He’s loved amazing men and women through the years, but none were like this. He’s never felt this way before, he’s sure. And as his world explodes around him in white light and joy, he whispers in her ear, “Stay with me.”

She’s quiet after, and avoids his eyes. He doesn’t know what to say, so he makes them food and they sit down to eat. He eats in silence for a few minutes, but he knows this can’t go on. What’s between them is special, he knows it, He realizes he wouldn’t give up his past relationships despite how they ended, and he knows he has to try with Ingrid. 

He looks at her. “Ingrid.”

She ignores him, pushing the food on her plate. “Ingrid,” he says again. “Look at me.”

Her eyes lift, reluctantly.

“I meant what I said. I want you to stay.”

“I can’t. The Brotherhood-”

“The Brotherhood can rot.” Danse’s words surprise even him. Apparently old bitterness ran deeper than he thought. He takes a breath.

“We have something special, something rare, Ingrid. It’s bigger than the Brotherhood.”

“I care about you too, Danse. More than anyone I’ve ever met before. Maybe you can come back with me? I don’t know why you left but-”

“I can’t go back, Ingrid. It’s not an option.”

“I can’t leave the Brotherhood.”

Danse stands, pushing his hands through his hair. It’s still loose, so he ties it up, gathering it as he gathers his thoughts.

“You’re one knight, Ingrid. In the big picture, it won’t make a difference. A line in the records. But to me, you’re everything.”

“I’m not just a knight, Danse. I’m meant to be Elder one day.”

His skin seems to chill. “What?”

“If you were in the Brotherhood, you know how important the Maxsons are. You said it yourself when you told me how important General Garvey was to the Minutemen, and you know it’s the same in the Brotherhood. I’m meant to be the Elder after my father is gone, Danse. I can’t leave the Brotherhood.”

“You’re a Maxson?” Danse whispers. But he doesn’t hear her answer. He sees it when he looks at her, her dark hair, her blue eyes. She’s Arthur all over, but he just didn’t see it before. She’s Nora too, he realizes. It’s in her cheekbones and the curve of her body. But she’s clearly a Maxson through and through.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” he says. He runs his hands over his face and without a backward glance, leaves the room.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He doesn’t sleep that often, actually, but he knows it’s not even worth trying. But by morning everything he’s learned, every moment of the past few weeks has replayed itself a thousand times in his head. When he steps into his shelter in the morning, his teeth are clenched and his mind is set. 

“I’ll take you to Cambridge tomorrow,” he tells her. She nods, silently, and he steps back outside to begin preparations. 

***

_Danse packed his bag angrily, his stomach churning at the news he just received. As upset at he was, he couldn’t be angry with Haylen. Maybe it had been wrong of her to tell him, from a Brotherhood point of view. But as his friend, or whatever they were, he understood why she had come to him first._

_He didn’t have much time. He and Nora were leaving to the Glowing Sea in the morning, and he needed to stow his bag where he could retrieve it after he left… his stomach churned at the thought, but he forced himself to hold it in his mind. After he left the Brotherhood._

_He couldn’t stay. Haylen said she wouldn’t be able to keep the information away from Quinlan for more than a day or so. Just enough time to complete the mission with Nora. He’d send her back alone and then go AWOL. He already knew where he would go. It was a bunker he had scouted out when he had first arrived in the Commonwealth. Nobody knew about it but Haylen, not even Rhys, and he trusted her to keep his secret._

_It all went smoothly. So smoothly he should have known better. He was at his lowest point when Nora arrived. She talked to him for a long time, convinced him he was real, that his humanity was more than just his origins as a synth. He was going to leave, come back maybe after the Brotherhood was finished with the Institute. He could go to Preston Garvey for help._

_He stepped outside and his heart broke._

_The blue eyes he had fallen in love with were cold as ice. Danse could feel himself breaking, shattering, as Arthur argued with Nora about his fate. The love he craved was there, but it was all for her. Arthur spared him for her sake, and hers alone._

_His heart finally accepted what his eyes and mind had been saying for months. She saved him. For what, he didn’t know. He didn’t really care anymore. His world was gone._

_Nora was going back to the Prydwen, back to Arthur, and Danse was going to join the Minutemen, alone. He felt the cold settle on his robotic heart, and he was numb._

***

Danse packs his bag, checks his armour as well as Ingrid’s. There are five fusion cores from the wreckage, plus two he had saved, enough to clear the station and get them there… and him back, alone. Always alone. He avoids looking in her blue eyes, so like _his_ , and he spends another night sitting on the roof and looking out at the moonlight on the crashed bird that brought her into his life.

His armour is a mishmash of pieces he has gathered over the years. Originally a pristine set of X-01 he had found shortly after his expulsion from the Brotherhood, he had replaced pieces over the years with whatever he could find. It’s ugly as sin, but strong and well-maintained, and it fits his large body like a glove. He breathes a sigh of relief as he steps inside. He doesn’t get to use it as much as he would like, and it always feels like going home.

He watches as Ingrid steps into her Brotherhood issue T-60, clearly as comfortable in it as he is in his own. He stomps on the admiration that fills his heart at the sight. She isn’t for him. Her life isn’t for him, either. He has a mission, and he needs to get to it.

It’s a full day to the police station. They don’t talk much, aside from what’s necessary. It’s not for lack of trying on Ingrid’s part, but he shuts her down when she tries to make conversation. He’s been destroyed before. Not just by her, but by Riley, by Cutler, and by her own father. He should have stuck to his plan to not get involved, back when Ingrid first came, but he was lonely and weak and he needed companionship as much as any human did. 

Maybe when she was gone, he would go to the settlements and spend some time with people again. Find some woman or man to spend a few weeks with. Get this stupid sick and lonely feeling out of his system.

That’s all it is. Just loneliness. He tries to convince himself, trying to ignore how very different and special she felt before he found out who she was.

They find the police station early on the second day. It seems quiet, and they make their way to the radio unmolested. The transmitter is right where the Brotherhood left it decades ago. He looked at it, remembering Nora and the trip to Arcjet, her tall form dressed in blue as she jogged along. He didn’t know why the Brotherhood hadn’t taken it when they left, but he had scouted the building some years ago, and knew it remained.

Ingrid sets her beacon, the sound of the distress signal echoing through the building. She leans against the wall tiredly. “The Prydwen is only a few days away,” she tells him. “They didn’t want to fly it into the Commonwealth without advance scouts. A ride should be here for me within a few hours. I understand if you don’t want to stay.”

Danse grimaces. She’s right. He should go. There’s no telling what a bird full of Brotherhood soldiers would do if they found him. Arthur’s words from twenty-five years ago echoed in his mind. _Shot on sight._

He has a hard time making himself move. Despite everything, he doesn’t want to be without her. His head is all over the place. He hates her. He loves her. He can’t stand her. He never wants to be without her. 

“Danse…”

Her voice is a whisper, and he looks at her. She’s staring at him, her big blue eyes wet with tears, and he can’t go. He can’t. He’ll wait until the last second, until they come, and hide until they are gone. 

He’s still in his armour, so is she, but he doesn’t care. He steps up to her and they kiss, her hands on the lip of his armour, metal on metal.

“I love you,” she says, and he kisses her again. He’s lost in her, but still he listens, waiting for the sound of the vertibird that’s coming to tear them apart.

But that’s not the sound he hears. It’s too soon anyway. The ‘bird is at least a few hours away. This sound is worse. Scratching, groaning.

The beacon has alerted more than just Brotherhood. The police station is full of ghouls. 

“Stay here!” he shouts. He locks her in the room, braces the door, then heads outside to fight them off. 

***

Danse knows, somehow he _knows,_ in this moment, that he is fated to die here. 

That fate was thwarted the last time by a shape in blue that swept in without warning and saved him in this very spot, from this very location, a quarter century ago. 

But this time, there will be no rescue. No miracle. 

As the ferals swarm, more than even he, stronger than most humans and clad in power armour, could even hope to fight off, his only regret is that he will never look into those beautiful blue eyes again.

***

Thunderous loud noise and wind. There’s yelling, a man. Ingrid is screaming. 

***

Nora’s face wavers in and out of his vision. She says he’s safe. He’s confused. Can he be safe if he’s dead?

***

There’s a hum around him, it is familiar and comforting. He opens his eyes and sees Arthur there, framed in the doorway, watching him. His vision slowly clears, and his mind tries to reconcile the youth he knew with the greying, lined man before him. A doctor comes and Arthur turns to him, and it’s dark again.

***

Danse wakes again, and it’s different this time. He’s really awake, and he has a sneaking suspicion he knows where he is. He’s alone, in medbay. Probably on the Prydwen. He’s not sure why the ghouls didn’t get him, or why the Brotherhood didn’t either, but for now, he’s probably safe.

He looks up when the door opens, and when a familiar face pokes around the door, he smiles.

“You’re awake!” Haylen beams as she steps into the room. Danse finds his mind jarred at her appearance. She’s softer, her red hair streaked with grey, but she’s bold as ever as she steps up to his bedside.

“My lord, Paladin, you look exactly the same as when you left! Do you not age at all?”

“Apparently not,” he replies. “How are you, Haylen?”

“I’m good, Danse. It’s been good. Really good.” She leans over. “I have a grandbaby on the way!”

“Really?”

“Really. Rhys just needed a push in the right direction. It’s a long story.”

“I’m happy for you, Hay. You deserve it. And I never had the chance to thank you, but thanks. You saved my life.”

“Danse, you were my best friend.”

“And you were mine. Thank you.”

Haylen’s eyes are red and watery, and Danse’s are heavy again, so she says goodbye and leaves. Danse closes his eyes, and waits for sleep to come, but the visit from Haylen brings back memories he hasn’t thought of in years. 

***

_The weeks after he brought Nora onto the Prydwen for the first time passed in a blur. Danse tried to tell himself he was over Maxson, but at night when he lay in bed, he could see them together in his mind’s eye. They could barely keep their eyes off each other when they were in public, and Danse was certain he had heard her in his quarters late one night._

_So certain, in fact, that he was now reluctant to go to his quarters tonight. Instead, he was sitting in the darkened mess hall, nursing a glass of bourbon, and scowling so hard he could feel a headache forming in his forehead. He took a sip and forced himself to relax his face, but as the alcohol warmed his blood, he had to acknowledge that he was only harming himself._

_All the self-awareness in the world didn’t help him forget any more than the alcohol did._

_He was staring at his glass so intently that he didn’t notice when a small form slid into the seat in front of him until she spoke._

_“You ok, Paladin?”_

_Danse looked up with a start, relaxing when he saw it was Haylen._

_“I’m fine.”_

_“You sure? If you scowl at that glass any harder it’s going to burst into flames.”_

_Danse bit back a snort of laughter._

_“I’m just thinking.”_

_“Hm.” Danse watched as Haylen got up and retrieved another glass before sitting back down and helping herself to the bottle. She poured herself a finger of bourbon and knocked it back in one shot, wincing at the burn._

_“You know, if you ever need to talk. You were there for me… well, you know. I appreciate it. I want you to know I care about you and if you need anything, I’m here.”_

_Danse looked at her for a long time without speaking. Like himself, she was a wastelander, an orphan, plucked from a dead-end life and given a new purpose with the Brotherhood. He knew she sometimes had reservations about how they did things, but he also knew she was loyal, good hearted, and trustworthy._

_He sighed, looking in his glass again, considering._

_“Are you in love with Nora?” Haylen’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife._

_“No! Why would you think that?” he laughed uncomfortably. She had hit a little too close to the truth._

_“Everyone sees the writing on the wall with her and Maxson. But when you look at them together, there’s a little more in your eyes than speculation.”_

_Danse looked away, trying to keep the guilty look off his face._

_“I know what it’s like, Danse. To be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.”_

_Danse looked up at her again, curious. Curious and a little nervous. She couldn’t mean…_

_“Knight Rhys will never feel the same way about me as I do for him. I once thought…”_

_Haylen shrugged and poured herself another finger of whiskey._

_“To long shots and broken hearts,” she said, holding up her glass._

_Danse tapped his glass on hers, and they both tossed back their shots in unison._

_***_

_Despite everything, Danse couldn’t bring himself to hate Nora. She was a good person, if unusual. Frozen in a vault for over two centuries, her main goal was to find her missing son. Danse worked with her closely over the next few months as they tracked down a scientist in the Glowing Sea, a courser, and several hard-to-find pieces of tech. He spent more time in the field with her than on the Prydwen, and it was hard to remember at times that she was the one who was breaking his heart._

_She was funny, kind, witty, and very loyal to the Brotherhood. Danse could honestly say she was one of his favourite people and he very much enjoyed spending time with her._

_It was different on ship. She spent most of her time with Maxson. Their relationship was an open secret. But at least he had Haylen, and eventually he opened up to her a bit more, telling her the truth about who his feelings were for, and he was gradually able to compartmentalize his feelings a little better. He was almost able to convince himself he was over Maxson, until the day the Molecular Relay was complete, and he stood to the side and watched as Maxson took Nora’s face in his hands and kissed her, in front of him, Ingram, and everyone else._

_Danse was close enough to hear as Maxson spoke. “Please come back safely. I… Just…”_

_Nora threw her arms around him and they stood in each other’s arms for a long time, until they reluctantly parted. She stepped into the relay and blew a kiss to Maxson before the machine powered up and she was gone in a flash._

_Maxson was a wreck. Danse wanted to go to him, he fought the urge, but Haylen was watching him and the look in her eyes reminded him that no good would come of it._

_***_

_That night, Danse was in his quarters when a soft tap came at his door. He opened it to find Haylen standing there, a bottle in hand._

_“I thought you might like some company,” she said._

_Danse stepped aside and let her enter. She set the bottle on the desk and stepped up to Danse. He blinked with surprise as she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. “You seemed to need some comfort,” she said._

_Danse did. He didn’t realize how much he needed comfort until he felt her warmth next to him. They stood that way for a long time, until she tipped her head up to look at him. He looked down at her, and then to his surprise, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his._

_He pulled away, surprised, stepping back out of her arms and eyeing her warily._

_“You know I’m not in love with you,” he reminded her._

_She stepped close again. “And I’m not in love with you, either, Danse. But that’s not what this is about. This is about two people who are lonely, coming together to make the night a little less dark.”_

_Danse considered this for a moment. He had had relationships, and a few almost anonymous encounters, one night stands with a few men and women outside of the Brotherhood. But a friend?_

_Danse searched her face. They had always been honest with each other. And if Danse was honest with himself, he needed what she was offering right now._

_He wound his fingers into her hair and pulled her close, and their lips met._

_***_

_She was gone when he woke up, not that he was surprised, and he went about his day like normal. Or at least as normal as it could be with Nora’s fate in question and Maxson pacing the Prydwen like a caged animal._

_Nora finally returned after a week gone, and when he saw her fall into Maxson’s arms, Danse realized he was more relieved that she was safe than jealous about their bond. The thought was almost a relief, and he allowed a small smile to briefly flash across his face._

_That night, Nora found him in the mess while he was eating. He indicated that she should join him, so she sat down, a sombre look on her face._

_He was dying to ask about the Institute, but he wasn’t sure how much of the intel she had collected was classified. Unsure, he sat silently until she looked at him sadly._

_“Shaun is gone,” she said._

_“They killed him?” Danse asked, dismayed._

_“Worse. They raised him. He’s a sixty year old man now, Danse, and the leader of the Institute.” Danse watched as a tear rolled down her cheek. “They took my baby, took what was the best thing about Nate and I, and turned him into…”_

_She took a deep, shuddering breath._

_“He may still be alive, but my Shaun is gone. The Institute stole him. Brainwashed him. He’s lost to me.” Her eyes hardened briefly. “I managed to get their facility schematics and a bunch of other data onto a holotape, though. Proctor Quinlan and Scribe Haylen are analyzing it now.”_

_Danse reached out and took her hand. “I’m so, so sorry Nora. I was hoping he would come back to you.”_

_“I know that, Danse. You’ve been such a good friend to me. I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”_

_“If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”_

_“Well,” Nora said, her lips twisting. “How about another trip to the Glowing Sea?”_

_***_

_They were set to go in search of a facility that may hold the weapons required for Liberty Prime, the robot which had helped the Brotherhood win the Capital Wasteland, and which was being rebuilt for the battle they were about to embark on. The next day was spent in prep for the journey._

_It was late, and Danse was ready to try for at least a few hours of sleep before the vertibird dropped them off at the edge of the Glowing Sea early the next morning. He was just about to switch off the lights when he heard a knock at the door._

_He frowned when he opened it to find Scribe Haylen on the other side._

_“This isn’t a good time,” he said. His brows raised and his frown intensified as she ignored him and brushed past him into the room, closing the door carefully behind her._

_“I’m not brushing you off, Haylen it’s just that-”_

_“I’m not here for that, Danse,” she interrupted. “I’m here to tell you what I found on the holotape Nora brought back from the Institute._  
***

Danse is sitting up and eating when Ingrid comes in. His eyes drink in the sight of her, taking in every inch. Her hair is tied tightly on her head, and she’s dressed once again in an orange flight suit. They are a little different than they were back in his day, but the sight still both comforts him and stresses him out at the same time. 

She watches him for a moment, and he watches her back, waiting for her to speak. 

“My dad says you’re a synth,” she finally says.

His lips press together and he nods. His stomach threatens to expel the lunch he was just eating. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“W-what?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a synth?”

Before Danse can say anything, the door opens and Nora comes in. Danse is irritated at the intrusion, but he smiles when he sees who it is. 

“Hello, Danse.”

“Hello Nora.”

“You don’t look a day older.” 

Danse shrugs, glancing at Ingrid. “I’m not really down with aging, I guess. You look good, though.”

She did, too. Like everyone else, her grey hair and lines are jarring for Danse, but when she speaks, it seems like her current appearance clicks into his memories, and she’s suddenly Nora, his friend, and nothing more.

“Thank you for rescuing Ingrid. She told me how you saved her from the wrecked bird and brought her to the police station.”

Danse wondered what else Ingrid told her mother, but decided not to ask. He simply shrugged. 

“What are your plans, Danse?”

How can he have plans? He doesn’t even know what his options are. Will they allow him to leave? Will he be taken prisoner? Executed?”

His lack of response hangs heavy in the air, and suddenly Ingrid turns and walks out. Danse stares at the door for a long time, willing her to come back. 

“I think you need to talk to Arthur, Danse. It’s been a long time. Things have changed. He’s changed.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him.”

Nora smiles at him and steps up to his cot. Her hand rests on his face for a moment, and then her arms are around him. “I’m glad you’re home, Danse.” 

She stands and wipes her eyes before taking her leave. 

***

The next day the doctor clears Danse to move around. He asks if he can speak with the Elder, and the doctor directs him to the Command Deck.

The Command Deck is empty, but the knight on duty suggests he check the Forecastle. Nodding, Danse makes his way up the ladder into the quarters, looking around at the place he once called home, noticing the similarities and differences to how he remembers it. 

Nobody pays him any mind as he heads to the door to the forecastle. He leans on it for a long time, still recovering from his injuries, but more so trying to recover from his memories. He wonders if it will hurt as much to see Arthur as it did in the past, watching him with Nora. He closes his eyes, picturing Arthur’s eyes, blue as the sky, his face. 

But the blue eyes swimming in front of his mind’s eye are Ingrid’s, the voice in his heart is hers, and he realizes that the thing he loves Arthur for the most is for bringing Ingrid into the world, for giving him the chance to have met her, to have spent even this short time with her. However his life goes, however long it is, he will never regret the short time he has spent with her. 

He opens the door and steps outside.

***

Arthur is standing at the end of the walkway, but he turns when Danse comes out. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, sir,” Danse answers. It’s a reflex. Maxson is and always will be Danse’s Elder before anything else. He occupies that space in Danse’s mind with such ease that for a brief moment, he wonders how he could have ever thought of him as anything else. It’s such a freeing thought that he almost laughs aloud.

“I’m glad, Paladin.”

The word hangs in the air, hovering in the sky alongside the airship, before floating away on the breeze.

Danse looks around. “Where are we?” he asks.

“Just north of Providence. It used to be Rhode Island.”

Danse nods, remembering his journey here so long ago. 

“I wanted to apologize, Paladin. I- made a mistake. I’ve made a lot of them over the years, but you’ve always been the biggest one. I didn’t realize it right away, but over the years, we’ve come across a number of synths. Traded with them, worked with them. A lot of them fled the Commonwealth after the Institute was destroyed.”

Danse grimaced. Synths were not very welcome in the Commonwealth. The destruction of the Institute hadn’t really changed that. 

“They live openly in the Capital Wasteland. We couldn’t just kill them. Some of them had friends. Loved ones. Our policy changed.”

Maxson sighs, turning to look at the ground below. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t fight it. But Nora… she’s smart. She’s a smart woman. And she’s very convincing. She knew that the goodwill of the citizenry was important. I gave in. Honestly, I had no choice. She really never shuts up when she’s got an opinion.” He chuckles to himself for a moment before straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back.

“One day this woman, a synth, found a patrol and asked to be recruited. The patrol didn’t know what to do, so they brought her to me. I was against it, of course, but Nora… did you know she used to be a lawyer?”

Danse shakes his head. 

“She blows me away every single day, Danse. Every single day not a moment goes by that I’m not grateful for her. Where was I? Right. The synth woman. Anyway, she wanted to join the Brotherhood. I was against it, but Nora argued her case, and the woman joined. The first synth in the Brotherhood.” Maxson glances at Danse. “Second synth in the Brotherhood.” 

“Dana Wilcox is an exemplary soldier, Danse. Dedicated, hardworking, honest. Without the threat of the Institute, we had no reason to doubt that she was what she seemed. She’s a Paladin now, and there are seven other synths in the Brotherhood.”

Danse tries to hide his surprise, but judging by the look Maxson shoots him, he is failing spectacularly. 

“I came to realize that I had made a mistake when it came to you. At least Nora kept it from being a catastrophic one, at no small risk to herself, I might add. We looked for you. I sent letters by caravan, until the caravans stopped. I didn’t have a lot of hope, though. Even with the current mission to the Commonwealth, I assumed you had likely been killed or left the area. Imagine my surprise when I heard that the man who almost died saving my daughter was the very one I hoped to find again.”

“I don’t know what to say, sir.” Danse’s knees are a little weak. He had half expected Maxson to toss him over the railing when he’d come out, so this story was completely out of the blue.

“Well, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I was hoping you would say you would come back. You’re still a Paladin, I reinstated you years ago. Your armour is even still down in the bay. I tried to give it to Nora but she wouldn’t wear it. Nobody would touch it. Some of the squires thought it was haunted.” Maxson is laughing again. Danse is staring. He can’t help it. Did he always laugh this much?

“I need a drink,” Danse mutters to himself. 

“Good idea.” Maxson turns and heads inside, and Danse follows, somewhat in a daze.

Fifteen minutes later later finds Danse sitting in Maxson’s quarters, a shot of whiskey in his belly and another in his hand. He’s starting to feel a bit more normal, but he still has a lot of questions. Maxson isn’t forcing him to stay, but he isn’t forcing him to leave either. He has a choice. 

He’s listing off the ways Danse is an asset to the Brotherhood, more now than ever. He knows the Commonwealth, the groups in charge. He knows the Brotherhood and their history and morals. And even his longevity is an advantage to the Brotherhood. His value as an advisor would be much greater than it ever was as a soldier. 

Danse still hasn’t answered Maxson when the door opens without warning and Ingrid storms in. “Dad, I can’t find-” she stops dead when she sees Danse, and Danse smiles. She smiles back, then her smile turns to a grin. “I was looking for you, but it seems I found you.”

“Yes you did.”

She points back out the door. “I should go. I can wait. It can wait. I guess.” she glances at her father, then back at Danse. “Will I see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll find you,” he replies quietly.

She leaves the way she came, and Danse sits back in his chair, the smile still stuck on his lips. 

Arthur clears his throat, and Danse feels his face heat up as he turns to the Elder.

Maxson is watching him speculatively as he pours himself a new drink then leans back in his chair, his leg crossed over his thigh and his fingers scratching in his grey-streaked beard. “I think there’s more factors to your decision than I know about,” he comments.

Danse nods mutely.

A minute passes, then another.

“You know, I’ve held your position open for a long time, Danse. It’s not going anywhere. Maybe you should go talk to her?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Danse says. He sets down his drink and turns to the door. “Thank you, sir.”

***

He finds her in the mess, staring blankly at a cup of tea. She looks up when he approaches giving him a smile that wraps around his heart and warms his whole body. He smiles back. “Can I join you?”

“Yeah,” she says, pushing out the extra chair with her foot.

“I talked to my mom,” she says. “She told me about how you found out you were a synth. I get why you left the Brotherhood.”

“Things were different then.” 

“Yeah,” she says again. She shifts in her seat. “Are you going to come back?”

Danse looks at her, trying to figure out what she wants. Does she want him to come back?

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like it if you did.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I like you. I’d like you to stick around for a while. With me.”

“Are you sure? I’m a synth. I’m not real. I’m not going to age or change or-”

Ingrid cuts him off, standing up and walking around the table to sit on his lap. She winds her hands around his neck and smiles right before she kisses him.

“Then I guess all my old lady friends at the knitting circle will just have to be super jealous of my hot, young boytoy, won’t they,” she laughs, kissing him again.

He kisses her back. It won’t be forever, he knows that, but if there’s one thing he’s learned in the sixty or so years he’s been on this earth, it’s that when you have a chance at happiness, however briefly, you take it.

***

Danse is an Elder. He’s not _the_ Elder, but he and a few other synths in the Brotherhood earn that title after a long time in when other ranks no longer suit. He’s tall, healthy, his hair thick and black as ever. 

He sets the hubflowers on the grave. They’re so blue, dark at the centres and bright at the edges, like her eyes. He spent nearly fifty years waking up to those eyes, and he won’t ever forget them. He wipes a tear from his cheek. It’s been nearly ten years since she left him, but he misses her every single day. 

She’s buried next to her mother and father, in a graveyard behind the Citadel. Other friends are nearby, Haylen and her husband Rhys, and so many other faces he remembers as clearly as if they stood before him now. 

But he isn’t alone. He’s with his family, his Brothers and Sisters, and he has people he loves now as much as he did them. He knows, more than anything else, that the time he spends with them is precious and fleeting.

He hears footsteps, and he looks up, smiling when he sees Elder Maxson approach. The young Elder, Henry, isn’t the youngest the Brotherhood has ever known; that honour still belongs to Arthur. He’s tall, with black hair like Danse, but the blue eyes he inherited from his grandmother, Ingrid. 

Danse can still remember the look on her face when she found out she was pregnant with Henry’s mother. They all assumed synths were infertile, so it came as a bit of a shock to find out she was expecting. 

It’s a wedding day today, and Danse is looking forward to seeing his family grow. He smiles, breathes, and blows a kiss to the stone that marks Ingrid’s resting place. 

“Ready?” Henry asks. 

“Let’s go,” Danse replies, and they turn together and head inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! 
> 
> Once again thank you so much to Avaleah for giving me such great ideas to springboard from, it was awesome working with you and I look forward to more in the future. Once again, [please visit her on tumblr!](http://avaleahworks.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [You can find me on tumblr as well by clicking this link!](https://tess-etc.tumblr.com/)


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